A Field of Roses
by Anayah
Summary: Fantine is living her way of life in Montreuil sur mer, and she comes across a man she had never thought she would see again.


The next day will be another day. But the next night, however… At night everything changed.

No. Night was no longer the time of peace she had once thought it to be. That innocent world of laughter in the day, and then the serene darkness at night was no longer there. There had been a time when she would go to her bed smiling, and then dream about the previous day, and future days to come. Each time she awoke it would be to walk across that splendid field of enchantment, and walk with a hand holding her own. The field of lush flowers and rose bushes grew each day, developing their delicate splendour. Red petals turned to crystal and gold, and the thorns glittered, flaunting their dagger points like a proud stag displays its mighty rack of antlers. That field had been endless.

Time had passed, and all the while the field grew. But as rosebushes grow, so the thorns multiply. A blind man, if he walked through a field of daggers and swords, backed by guards at the point of the knife, would not know fear as long as the daggers did not touch him. And so she had walked, blindly unaware of the spirals and possibilities that life could spin out at any minute, any second. Unaware that anything could ever be different. She laughed with pity whenever she thought of those days now.

As all plants do, the time came when the roses began to fade. They leaned over, catching her clothes with their thorns, and tearing her finery. They laughed at her when she claimed she had never dreamed this would happen, just as poor child would be mocked if they believed that gold and crystal lived. As if she had only just opened her eyes, she was no longer blind, and in being so she found that she was lost. The thorns were no longer beautiful, and she saw only their dark tips among the harshness of reality, and the way the blood glistened like glass. Then she discovered that crystal was inclined to shatter.

Her entire world shattered around her, before her eyes, and there was no longer a field.

And now the night came on, and she now knew the truth of this time. It was no longer silent. Before, she had remembered every second of each day as if she was peering through a looking glass, but she had never truly appreciated it. Now it was the nights which she remembered.

She wandered the streets, looking for work. Once she had remembered her home town with pride, but now all illusions fell away. Each figure was enrobed in shadows, and she was thankful for the darkness's mercy of hiding ghastly things from her vision. Had it been daylight, she would have seen the mud gathering on her shoes, and she would have been compelled to look at the sources of those moans vibrating through the air, and the constant sound of heavy footsteps. Shapes passed her by on either side, and as she walked she ensured that every so often she walked through the lamp light. It was the requirement of her job that she be seen.

Within the hour she had found a mode of work, and she fought to ignore the emotions going through her mind as she walked with him. Sometimes the men wished to be discrete, and would urge her to walk within a considerable distance behind them. But this man led her in his arms, and from his hold she could tell that he was perhaps familiar with this procedure. All the while she kept her mouth tightly shut, not wishing him to see her missing teeth, not until she was securely in his bedroom.

When they reached the building she still kept her thoughts and opinions hidden. She had seen many rooms, and she would refrain from thinking about or commenting on this one.

He did not immediately bother to close the door behind her, but first went to arrange the unkempt bed at the side of the room. She was left standing just in front of the doorway, but he did not worry about her. He was one with the majority, then. One of those with the mindset that she, and those like her, could not think for themselves, and that they were not prone to movement without the bidding of a man. His pleasures at night were obviously no secret, though. The bed was small, and the sheets were thin and well worn, but it made no difference. She had worked with worse.

At last the man turned to her, and smiled as he motioned towards the bed. She froze for a second, but then ventured forward as was expected. There was something about that face… something which she could not quite recall. As the lights in the room were put out, she recalled the origin of that face. That face which was different to her from others: this face had a name. The name was one which she had not thought about for years, and the name was 'Blacheville'.

She had known him. She had known him along with three other men, one of which had been her lover. She had lived her life with those four men, and three other women, and had thought nothing of that life, a life which seemed pure mockery now. Yes, now she recalled the name of Blacheville's lover, who she had almost been friends with. Favourite, this man's girl, would have laughed if she had seen what was happening now.

At that moment, she wondered whether Blacheville recognised her. Impossible. If she had taken this much time to recognise him, he would never in a lifetime figure out who she was. Or, at least, who she had been. In a great way, she was thankful that he did not know her. Just the same way as she was thankful that this man now with her in bed was not Tholomyès. She had given tears to Tholomyès, the man who had made her believe that she was in love. If he had been here right now, she would have run, whether he recognised her or not.

The following night, she repeated her pathways through the streets. Never again would she meet that man, but he had restored to her memories which she had thought long forgotten and lost. The night was her ally, as it hid what should never be seen. For that next night, if a torch had shined too brightly upon her, the tears would have been visible. Once crystal is shattered, it never again can be made into exactly what it was before. Fantine knew that her field of roses would never grow again.


End file.
